


it feels so scary, getting old.

by kennymcshamrock



Category: South Park
Genre: Gen, i was just inspired after watching 'you're getting old' again, its just a drabble so sorry, this is uhhh sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 04:31:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15811419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kennymcshamrock/pseuds/kennymcshamrock
Summary: stan has a complicated relationship with music.





	it feels so scary, getting old.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Randy is not Lorde in this, because that’s fucking stupid and I want this to be….not fucking stupid?? Yeah. This is really dramatic. Also the formatting is messed up on this but i am too tired to fix it rn i'll do it later so sorry

Stan Marsh has had a complicated relationship with music since he was a kid. Since he was ten years old to be exact.

Finding anything enjoyable was really limited to what was the least offending whilst completely smashed on his hidden bottle of Jack Daniels that he stashes under his bed, in a 

shoe box. Usually it ended up in Stan binge watching cooking shows on Netflix, barely aware of his own existence let alone anything else. And even that was shitty. So music 

wasn’t something he really did. 

 

He could listen to whale sounds. He could listen to white noise. He could listen to some Beethoven if he was buzzed. But that was it, and it sucked. At times, it was even too much. 

He wished he had a different life. Different ears, maybe. He wished he could enjoy something fully that wasn’t The Catcher in the Rye.

 

Not that he wasn’t eternally grateful for the masterpiece, it’s saved him from some of the darkest times in his life when his Lexapro wasn’t working, and whiskey wasn’t either. 

Sometimes the only thing that worked was to sit on the roof of his house, or maybe at Stark’s Pond, and just reread the same passages over and over again, sobbing at how 

something can speak to the very essence of his soul. Separately from the book, to sob about how this is so unfair, how he can’t enjoy anything, about how he misses his friends, even Cartman.

It had been a slow death. A decline that he could sense was happening and yet could do nothing about but watch as all his close relationships crumbled. First, he stopped getting 

invited to things. Movies, hangouts, sleepovers. It was subtle at first, no one would post about it anywhere, he only heard at the bus stop about the fun times being had without 

him through a laugh from Kyle, an inside joke from Kenny that Stan wished so fucking badly he understood. 

 

Second, they stopped sitting with him at school, at lunch time. In Middle School that happened. That was a tough one. Stan supposed he deserved it. The older he got, the cagier 

he became, lashing out. He came to school hungover, terrible mood. There wasn’t anything anyone could do right by him. 

Now, the most he had of his friends was seeing Kenny under the bleachers at football games. Passing a blunt, maybe a wink. He appreciated it, but it wasn’t like Kenny ever really 

spoke to him. He’s only Facebook friends with Kyle now. 

They haven’t spoken, really truly talked, in years. 

 

Stan had been scrolling through Facebook, which he re downloaded due to necessity in middle school, and he saw Kyle had shared a song on Facebook. 

Kyle Broflovski shared a post. 

Dude Everyone needs to listen to this song!! Lorde rocks! 

Lorde had been some popular artist in the past year or so that Stan hadn’t bothered listening to. Top ten, Popular, Pop music was usually the worst for Stan. Literally made 

him gag at times. 

He doesn’t know what possessed him to download fucking Spotify and listen to this particular song but fuck he is glad that he did. 

The song was Ribs by Lorde, and Stan started skeptical, figuring he’d probably delete the program off his laptop once it proved to sound as shitty as the rest of his life, and 

go drink himself into an oblivion at the High School, maybe in the forest.

He pops in his headphones and starts up the song, propped up on his bed, listening to the intro music beats, his heart beating somewhat rapidly. He’s picking at his lip, 

listening to the ambient noise and drum beat as the song starts up. 

The drink you spilt all over me;  
‘Lover’s spit’ left on repeat

 

Stan inhales sharply, hearing her low, calming voice so clearly. So sharply. 

My Mom and Dad let me stay home;  
It drives you crazy, getting old

 

Stan feels tears prickling in his eyes and he’s practically hyperventilating, because it doesn’t sound like shit. He devours the song, absolutely immersed in the media in a way he 

hasn’t been in years. Getting close to even a decade, now. He’s a senior, now, in high school, and he hasn’t been able to listen to anything but Beethoven’s Fifth, after a fifth of 

vodka for 8 fucking years. 

 

The part that really gets him, really, really gets him. 

You're the only friend I need  
Sharing beds like little kids  
Laughing 'til our ribs get tough  
But that will never be enough

By this time, Stan is sobbing on his bed, shaking, and by the ending beats of the song, Stan is immediately starting it over, and listens to it at least 10 more times on repeat. 

After about two hours of sobbing, and feeling like he hasn’t in years, he sits up, yanks out his headphones, and picks up his phone. His face feels swollen and his hair was fucked 

up, but he does something without thinking. 

He calls Kyle. 

 

Stan dials Kyle’s number, that he still knows by heart, and his heart is pounding in his throat, making him nauseous, when he hears the phone start ringing. 

 

And it picks up. 

Stan feels like he’s been holding his breath for a long time, his head dizzy.

After a long moment, Stan can hear a sigh on the other end. 

“...Hello?” 

Stan can feel himself crying again, but this time he just laughs. Kyle sounds the same. His pissy voice, his harsh inflection. Stan sniffs.

“Dude, Lorde is so awesome. I love that song you shared,” He says, with a self conscious laugh at the end. 

“Stan, is that you? Are you crying?” Kyle sounds startled on the other end, Stan imagines he’s been sleeping, maybe all ruffled, and he is elated that he picked up. It’s been years.

“Maybe a little. I’m just so happy.” Stan feels like maybe things are going to be better, now.


End file.
